


i wanna know why you got me going (so let's go)

by petasos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Autistic Jake English, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Getting Together, God Tiering Gives Trans People The Bodies They Want, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Pale-Caliginous Vacillation, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon, Trans Dirk Strider, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petasos/pseuds/petasos
Summary: You’renotwith Dirk, he’snotwith you, and Hal is… weirdly enough, more your type than previously expected.Or, the one where Hal, Dirk, and Jake get together, and also bang.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44
Collections: Polyswap Winter Promptfest - Dusk Edition





	i wanna know why you got me going (so let's go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avosettas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [avosettas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas) in the [Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020) collection. 



> > **Prompt:** what if we kissed on the consort island... and we were two boys and one robot who despises the human concept of "gender" ?
>> 
>> i dunno. i love these three. maybe something with hal getting acclimatized to being in a body since he hasnt had one since he was 12? like he isnt used to affection and its WINTER so its COLD and since hes a robot dirk and jake are like "bro. bro we gotta cuddle. we gotta. cos ur warm."
> 
> hey so i don't....... know if this was what you wanted but uh i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> title is from ready to go (get me out of my mind) by panic! at the disco... which is tbh a song i pulled from my dave playlist lmao but i actually p much solely listened to c'mon by kesha the entire time i wrote this?? so if you wanna...... feel those Vibes i guess.

Hellmurder Island, now technically called “the Consort Kingdom,” is your worst nightmares come to life, all over again. You lived here for so long, and now that you have the chance to leave, you can’t bring yourself to - because the Consorts need you. So you sit in your tower, watching snow fall on your island for the first time in years (it was always too warm, but luckily the protective shield Dirk and Jade built to keep the island at a better temperature for the Consorts means that the weather’s a little off now. Not too off, but off enough.)

Now, you are absotively posilutely the kind of person who hates snow: you grew up on an island in the Pacific. Hell, you’re still ON an island in the Pacific! But you’re watching Dirk dust off his boots from the closet, groaning at the sight of snow, and a thought hits you in full-blown motion: _he’s never really seen snow before_.

“Hey, Dirk?” you call out, and set down the knife you’re using to chop up bell peppers. “Are you… going to go outside in that?”

Dirk looks down, apparently confused regarding his current choice of apparel: apparently he thinks it’s fine to go outside in his fluffy Applejack pajama pants and a tank top. “I’ll just put a jacket on,” he says, shrugging, as if this is an everyday occurrence. “It can’t be that cold, right?”

That is exactly when you hear the sound of metal clanking, and then see Hal leaning in the doorway. While his body may look sleek and soundless at first glance, it’s still a prototype, and you’re well aware that it’s… awfully heavy. Dirk still doesn’t know how much you’ve been, ahem, ‘interacting’ with Hal. You’re not _with_ Dirk, he’s not _with_ you (though sometimes you still wish he was), and Hal is… weirdly enough, more your type than previously expected.

“It’s freezing, bro. Trust me, it’s fuckin’ snowing elephants, and you do not want to go out there, because those elephants are going to trample you to death with their snowy feet.” Hal laughs at his own little metaphor, the sound clinky and metallic. “I can do it.”

“You’ll get snow in your joints!” you say, pointing your knife at him. “I’ll go out. What on _earth_ do you need to leave the tower for, Dirk?”

Dirk shrugs again. Lately, his main method of communicating is via shrugging. “Groceries. Farmer’s market. Etcetera.”

“We have enough for the next few days, and _besides_ ,” says Hal, “the farmer’s market won’t be open today. Too damn _cold_. We should all just stay in, enjoy the stirfry Jake’s cookin’ up, and watch a movie or something.”

He’s right, and you yourself know it. Honestly, it’s even cold in the house, but Hal hasn’t seemed to notice, and isn’t turning up the temperature. If anything, it’s gotten colder since he came into the room, and Dirk’s arms have goosebumps freckling the skin. Hmm.

Dirk just looks between you and Hal. “Huh. I would’ve thought you’d want me out of the house so you can make out some more.”

Your face heats up the second he says it. “That’s -”

“I’m just teasing you,” Dirk says, walking right past you and smacking you lightly on the shoulder. Then he leans in a little, his breath right up against his ear. “But seriously, I _know_ you and Hal have somethin’ going on, and I’m going to find out _what_ it is.” Pulls back, so he’s not whispering anymore, sending shivers up your spine (and blood up to your cheeks, consarn it.) “That smells good, by the way, dude.”

And then he’s back in his bedroom, closing the door, and you’re alone with Hal, who immediately starts laughing. “The fuck did he say to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh,” you say, staring at the sizzling pan, “I suppose we just… haven’t exactly been forthcoming…”

“About the fact we’ve been f-u-c-k-ing?” Hal spells out every letter, taking time to enunciate, his fake eyebrows raised over the K-shaped anime shades he wears, just like Dirk’s. “I doubt it’s exactly private knowledge, everyone knows you’ve been banging someone in this tower - and Dirk knows it’s not him, unless he’s got a somnophilia kink big enough to let him sleep through it.”

You groan. _Technically_ , you and Hal haven’t gotten farther than… well. He’s used his hands. He doesn’t really have a functioning dick, or ass, or anything - it ends up being mostly about you, unless you use your words right and put on a good show for him (like Hal’s said, it’s all in one’s mind.)

“It’s none of his business!”

“It kinda is?” Hal says, sliding up to you - well, more like clanking over, then grimacing at the noises he’s making. “You’re his ex, and _I’m_ his robotic AI clone. And this,” he gestures a little, “happens to be where he’s living. So if you’re banging me, in his house, that’s sort of his business, dude.”

You groan. Again. “I don’t see _why_.”

“Maybe because he still has feelings for you? Ever consider that as an option?”

You shrug that off (probably because you’re well aware of his remaining feelings for you), and go back to fixing dinner. It’s still freezing, and night’s falling outside - you take a few minutes to watch the sun set from the kitchen window, leaning against the sink and taking in the gold and pink colors across the sky. Hints of Dave’s red and Dirk’s orange, too, Roxy’s pink and John and Jane’s separate shades of blue, falling into a beautiful rendition of Rose’s purple and Vriska’s blue, then darker, and darker, until all that’s left is ink and the ashy gray of snow below. You finish cooking the chicken, the bell peppers and jasmine rice, covering it in a honey mustard sauce Jane taught you. You snap her a picture, continuing your four hundred day snap streak - she sends back a thumbs up emoji and a picture of her on a date with Roxy and Calliope. You’re happy for her, really you are, but sometimes you can’t help but feel like you’re missing out on something, just by virtue of you not being in the dating circuit.

Dirk comes back out his room - he’s still wearing his silly pajama pants, but he’s added a hoodie to it. “Shit, it’s freezing,” he says, before he even takes the plate you’re holding out to him, your face still hot. He’s 5’5” to your 6’1”, a growth spurt shooting you up into the realms of being as tall as Jade and Dave (how the latter ended up 5’11”, you’ll never know, what with Roxy being 5’2” even.) “Hal, can you turn up the heater, or something?”

“Sure,” says Hal, from where he’s sitting on the couch.

You don’t have a dining room, so eating dinner either means cramming together into the living room, or going to your seperate bedrooms. You much prefer the first, even if it’s a bit crowded. The couch manages to stand up to Hal sitting on it, but you worry all three of you piled up there will lead to disaster, and you sitting in the armchair while they sit on the couch makes it feel like you’re playing therapist.

But then Dirk’s heading into the living room, grabbing the TV remote, and putting on something. It feels weird to not follow suit, so you push the pan off to the back burner, grab a plate, and head into the living room.

Is it wrong to say you have a kismessitude with your living room? The garish mustard yellow sectional, the mismatched throw pillows, the pink velvety armchair that looks like something your grandma would’ve loved - it’s hideous, honestly, but comfortable, in all it’s hipstery revolt. You’re twenty-one, why would you give a damn about something being ugly when it’s nice to sit in?

You take the armchair, wrangle yourself around so you’re sitting comfortably, with plate in hand.

Dirk ignores you. Hal gives you a weird sort of wave. The television drones on, an earlier episode of the _Doctor Who_ reboot playing, the guy with the floofy hair that looks like yours running around with a red-haired woman and trying to solve a murder. You ignore the show, focus on eating your stir fry, because you’re proud of it, goddamn it, and it tastes good for once.

And god is it _freezing_.

“Hal,” you say, and when you breathe out, you can see your breath. “Can you please turn up the heater? It’s _freezing_ in here.”

“Sorry,” says Hal, “I think it’s broken. Besides, I’m fine. Hey, why don’t you come over to the couch? It’s probably warmer over here, I give off enough heat to fuel a gas station for three hours.”

You debate this for all of .3 seconds before deciding you’re too fucking cold to put up with this nonsense, and move over, wedging yourself to the left of Hal. Dirk gives you a Look, the sort that means he’s probably trying to decide whether or not it’s worth staying. Either way, Hal is _warm_ , and you practically curl up next to him, partially draped across him, and he puts one arm around you to pull you closer.

On the screen, there’s a huge fucking wasp, and you glance at your half-empty plate sitting on the coffee table.

“It’s so _cold_ ,” you complain, pulling your arms into you.

Dirk lets out an affirmative noise, before decaptchaloging a blanket, laying it over you and Hal and himself. “Don’t blame me,” he says, “blame Jade, I think she purposefully set it to get below freezing just so we’d have a white Christmas. I bet she and Dave thought it’d be funny.”

“It’s _January_!” you protest.

“Hey, I _said_ not to blame me.”

“I’m not blaming you, I just said it’s January. That sort of defeats the point of a white Christmas.”

Dirk laughs at that, smoothing down his part of the blanket. “None of us can control the weather, dude, except maybe John. I bet Gcatavros would’ve been able to, if he’d godtiered in the game… Pages tend to do fucked up shit with their powers.”

You proceed to roll your eyes at that, ignoring him. You still don’t have control over your powers, and it’s been, what, five years? As ridiculous as it is, you don’t really have other options when it comes to learning aside from throwing yourself out there. So, _yes_ , ‘fucked up’ is a good sentence to use regarding what you, also a Page, can do with your powers.

“Hey, Pages are the most powerful class, once they get into the groove,” says Hal, reaching over and ruffling your hair like you’re five years old and he’s your dad. Which, as ridiculous as it is, _is_ rather calming, in a roundabout way. Your face heats up at the contact, his warm metal hands against your scalp, and you almost let out a very un-Jake-like noise in happiness.

You’re surprisingly comfortable, right here. Pressed up against Hal, with Dirk on the other side, now flipping through episodes of Doctor Who and trying to find one he likes, or something (he settles on one with those creepy stone angels - they gave you nightmares for a week the first time you saw them.)

You don’t even realize you’re drifting off until Dirk wakes you up with a, “Hey, Jake? Do we still have any of that pudding Jane sent left?”

“Oh, er, no, I don’t think so,” you say, the words groggily slurring together. You’re so comfortable, and warm, and you don’t feel so alone, with the two of them right there. It’s almost better than your weighted blanket. Almost. _Nothing_ beats having weight on top of you, not even being curled up next to the AI you’ve sort of been banging _and_ your best friend-slash-ex-boyfriend. Maybe if they were on top of you? Hmm. “You could always check… if so, I bequeath the rest of Jane’s pudding to you.”

“Thanks,” he says, and gets up, heading into the kitchen. Hal scootches a little to the side, to pick up more of the blanket, and you follow, groggy and listless, eyes half-lidded and watching the television flicker with color. Hal still has one hand in your hair, rubbing soothing circles across your scalp, and you feel like a very happy kitten being petted. Dirk reappears from the kitchen, glares at Hal for all of .5 seconds, and sits down next to you. “Sorry, I guess Hal decided he wanted to _steal my spot_.”

“Nah,” says Hal, “it was just warmer where I was sitting, so I figured Jake should have that cushion.”

Your face, as it’s been doing for the past hour, flushes reddishly. “You didn’t have to. It’s fine, I can move, you can take this spot.”

(You don’t want to move, Hal’s fingers are giving you a scalp massage with the works, and you’re sort of tired from cooking anyways.)

“It’s fine,” says Dirk, but you can tell it’s not 100% fine. “Just don’t steal my spot again, Hal.”

Hal snickers at that. Then he leans over, puts one hand under your chin. You blink at him - you can see the bright neon red of his eyes behind his shades, and he leans in, presses his warm mouth to yours. It’s not like kissing a human, there’s no softness or yield to the kiss, just hard metal and warmth. For a moment, you almost forget that Dirk’s right behind you, until he clears his throat, and you pull back, your face hot up to your ears, down to your shoulders.

Dirk sounds a little hoarser than usual when he looks right past you, right at Hal, and says, “I thought we were going to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Forgot, sorry.” Hal laughs, a stammery sound. “Jake.”

You blink at him, confused. “What?”

“Hal and I,” says Dirk, and you turn towards the sound of Dirk’s voice. Dirk cups your face with his gloved hands, an awkward smile curling across his mouth. “Look. We both like you, a lot. And I’m pretty sure you feel the same. If I’m wrong, if this ruins our friendship…”

You swallow. Do you feel the same? You’ve never really stopped to consider that, yes, you may very well feel the same about Dirk as he feels about you. Sure, you thought you did for a while, before declaring yourself Mr. Nonrom, and shrugging off any attempts from other people to try and woo you. You’d even briefly considered yourself aromantic… until Hal. Gray-aromantic fit better, so that was the label you’d decided on, but now…

“ _Oh_ ,” you murmur, “it doesn’t. Ruin it, I mean.”

Dirk laughs a little, and he’s so close that you could just kiss him right now. You can smell his shampoo, orange and vanilla. “I _never_ quit liking you. Romantically, I mean. I know our first relationship was hell… but… I talked to Hal, a lot. And Roxy. And Jane. And they kinda convinced me to give it a second shot. If you want to.”

“And, hey,” says Hal, and you suddenly remember he’s right there again, “you get two of us for the price of one. Assuming you don’t mind the fact that me and Dirk have been vacillating pitch and pale for the past two years.”

What? “I’m sorry, you -”

“Oh, I figured it was obvious,” says Hal, and he snickers, his fingers resuming their circles in your hair. “Probably should’ve mentioned it, but we don’t exactly come across as platonic, do we? I mean, you’ve walked in on Dirk, half-naked, sparring with me. Several times.”

You _have_ , that’s true. But Dirk’s also strifed, completely shirtless, with you… and you with him, so that doesn’t automatically make it… “ _Was that some sort of foreplay_?”

“Bingo.”

You turn back towards Dirk, eyebrows raised over your slightly-askew glasses. “I thought you hated him.”

“I do. Pitch-ways.”

“But he’s… well, isn’t he sort of _you_?”

“I take offense to that,” says Hal, “we diverged at thirteen. Think of us as closer to twins. If that grosses you out, think of it as closer to… me being a literal computer program, which defeats that it could be selfcestual. Unless that turns you on, in which case, we’re absolutely selfcesting it up here.”

“....why didn’t you ever mention it?”

Oh, god, you’re botching this. You are absolutely one hundred percent botching this. You’re currently taking note of the quickest way to pack all your stuff and run away, never to be seen again, all this buffoonery you’ve just caused. Welp, there goes your shoddy relationship with Hal AND your friendship with -

Dirk taps at your face. “Hey, don’t go shoveling yourself into a hole, okay? Like Hal said, we figured it was obvious. Clearly it wasn’t. I’m not exactly the kiss-and-tell kind of person -”

“- and neither am I,” adds Hal, “but hey, _everyone_ knew you were sleeping with one of us, it’s all over the tabloids.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m, erm, _sleeping_ with one of you… maybe getting it on with, at best…” Dear God can you please shut up? You finally understand the Strider-never-shutting-up disease, you must have it too. Jake English, honorary Strider, that’s you. “...not, that I’d object to that, but.”

Dirk runs his thumb down your cheek, and you almost push into his hand like a cat. “I mean, we could change that. Right now, if you wanted to.”

You can feel Hal’s hands still in your hair. “Solely if I don’t have to see the two of you make out. No offense, Dirk, but I’m not really into that.”

You’re on the verge of smiling when Dirk’s mouth crashes into yours, one hand on either side of your face. Hal’s hands move down, wrapping around your hips, and you can feel him shift, moving so he’s right behind you. You close your eyes, melting into the kiss, tilting your head and tasting Dirk, honey-sweet from dinner and bitter too. He moves, straddling you, and your hands meet his spiked up hair, fingers meeting sticky gel and soft hair. Metal presses against your neck, and you can tell it’s Hal’s mouth, hot and harsh.

You pull back, a string of spit trailing between you and Dirk. “I’d like that,” you mumble, and Dirk grinds down on you, a half-moan spilling out of your lips. How the hell _hadn’t_ you considered this before? Consarn it, Jake English, you’re a fool for not _once_ considering this as a possibility.

“I’d say that’s a resounding yes. Couch or bed?” asks Hal, pulling his mouth off of you, and you try to reach back, bring him back to you. Dirk’s laughter rings right in your ear, leaning over your shoulder to grab Hal by the throat and pull him into a kiss. You have to lean around it, peripheral vision filled with two nearly identical faces pressed together. Dirk pulls back, panting, and Hal laughs at that, patting his cheek. “I said bed. Way bigger. This is a little too tight. As much as I like that…”

“...save it for later?” Dirk asks, cocking one brow - his shades are askew, and you want to right them, but the gold of his eyes is doing something to you.

“Bingo,” says Hal, moving away from you. It takes you only a second to realize the house is much warmer now, but before you can protest or ask, Dirk’s grabbing your hand and grinning at you, and you can’t help but grin back, because maybe, just maybe, this could very well be the thing you’ve been missing out on.

Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re looking for something else, but right now, you can’t imagine this being anything else, anyone else, as you’re dragged by hand into your bedroom - not Dirk’s, not Hal’s, yours. Hal doesn’t even bother closing the door behind the three of you, because you’re pushing Dirk onto the bed, straddling his hips and helping him get that tank off. You lean down, pressing your mouth and tongue and teeth against the crook of his neck, and his legs wind up around you, before there’s a weight on the bed next to you, Hal laying on the bed, propped up on one shoulder.

You stop, staring at him for a second. Dirk lets out an audible groan, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling your mouth to his.

“Yeah, what _he’s_ sayin’ - don’t stop on account of me, I’ll be here.” Hal’s grinning at you, and you reach a hand over, dark-skinned fingers intertwining with metal, his joints scraping a little against your skin, not that you care. “Though, you could do to kiss his collarbone a little more, he really likes that.”

Dirk pulls away from you, shooting a glare at Hal. “Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m right,” says Hal, reaching over to pluck Dirk’s glasses right off his face - yours are basically pushed into your hair, and you don’t care that you have to squint a little to see the expression on Hal’s face, a mix of smug and turned on.

Dirk’s hands are in your hair, even as you move down his throat, leaving a trail of tiny bite marks in your wake, stopping right against his pulse - you can feel it thundering, and you just want to kiss him again, want the world to stop and hold his hands, pin him down, hold him until the sun comes back up.

But instead, you move your head down, and Dirk yanks a little on your hair right as your teeth graze his collarbone, and the hand you don’t have in Hal’s meets Dirk’s fingers, pulling them out of your hair, and all you can do is hold onto both of them.

“I,” you start to say, but Hal captures your mouth with his, and the _love you_ is left unsaid, but maybe that’s for the best. You have a long time to say it, you don’t need to right this second. When he pulls back, he’s grinning, and you’re grinning too, eyes flickering between the two of them. You suppose you’re dating them now, not that you expected this outcome, out of every one that flickered through your mind.

Dirk’s hips are bucking up against yours, as if trying to signal your attention - you can tell he’s hard, and hell, so are you, so you sit up a little. “Move your hips,” you say, snickering, and helping him out of those hideous pajama pants. He’s wearing briefs, hot pink with polka dots, and you almost let out a bit of a giggle, before pulling those down.

You’ve seen a few dicks in your years, but that was all in porn, and none of them were… quite like this one. Dirk has a… nice dick, you suppose, seeing as it’s sort of the first aside from your own that you’ve ever actually seen. Nicely curved, a bit veiny, all that.

He gives you this look, like he knows what you’re thinking, then his mouth clicks up in a smile. “Yeah, you like that? Say ‘thanks, SBURB.’ Only good thing the game ever did for me.”

“Oh,” you say, and Dirk just rolls his eyes, pulling you back into a kiss, his hands sneaking into your shorts, pushing them - and your underwear - right down your ass, crumpling at your knees. “I’ll be honest, I have absolutely no idea what -”

“Do you wanna top? Or be topped?” asks Hal, and his voice just brings something right up through your stomach, simmering and hot. “Do you want to fuck Dirk’s tight little ass, watch him spread his legs and wrap ‘em around you and moan for you, or do you want him to push you onto your back, or maybe onto your knees -”

“ _Maybe_ ,” hisses Dirk, elbowing Hal, his arm narrowly missing hitting you, “you should let him get his bearings first, dumbass.”

Hal snickers, and moves his head, kissing Dirk, and also very much obstructing your view of the both of them, minus Hal’s silver hair and half of Dirk’s jawline. When Hal pulls back, he looks at you, eyebrows raised, pulling his own shades off and setting them on your bedside table. “So? Any ideas?”

“I…”

“Hey,” says Dirk, and he grabs your hand, grip tight. “It’s cool. We’re all basically virgins here.”

“Speak for yourself.” Hal says, and the two of you groan in unison.

You squeeze Dirk’s hand back. “What do you want?”

“Either-or. Personally, I’d say all the tests I took consider me a sub who prefers to bottom, but I heavily disagree with the first one. In other words, I wouldn't mind having your dick in my ass. It’s a pretty nice one, as an FYI. Though all experience prior has been strap-ons.”

“Doesn’t that… make you not a virgin…?”

Dirk waves his hand noncommittally. “Hal, don’t suppose you got lube on you?”

“Why the fuck would I carry lube around with me? I’m not a fucking _sexbot_.”

“I never -”

“You implied it.”

You groan, audibly, and almost cover your face with your hands. “Where is it? I can go get it. And, er, condoms, I feel like that’s probably important…?”

“Hey, unless you got an STI, I’m good. It’s not like you can get me pregnant or something. Maybe you could get Hal pregnant, I don’t know what he’s done to his own -”

“Why,” says Hal, cutting Dirk off and glaring at him, reaching down and taking Dirk’s dick in his hand, giving it a stroke that has Dirk covering his very red face, “don’t _you_ take care of Dirk for a few moments? I’ll go grab it. He likes a little teeth with everything.”

And then he’s off the bed, and gone, and Dirk’s wriggling a little against the sheets, moving to sit up. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I _could_ just go down on you, or something, if you want, or we could just say fuck this, and cuddle. Hold hands, even. Just because I’m horny, or you are, doesn’t… I mean, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I know,” you say, and cup either side of his face with your hands. “Trust me, I do! And I want to… I didn’t realize I’d… been thinking about it as much as I have been, I _want_ to.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he murmurs, and presses an almost chaste kiss against your mouth. If he wasn’t naked, and you weren’t naked from the waist down, maybe it would be. “If you want to, that’s… that’s what matters. I don’t want to pressure you into this, like…”

The door swings back open, and a box of condoms lands on the bed.

“Are you two seriously just _talking_?” Hal asks, and you groan.

“Yeah,” says Dirk, “we are. And… honestly, I think we probably all should talk, over the whole banging thing -”

You cut him off with a finger over his mouth. “No. We came this far, we can talk after, unless you actually have objections.”

“Okay, fine,” he says, and you laugh at the way his mouth screws into a smile, and you lean over, kiss Hal one last time, before opening the condom box.

They’re surprisingly blue, out of every possible color - you like the contrast of the blue to the red lines on Hal’s skin, to the orange and green you and Dirk prefer. You carefully rip open the wrapper, roll it up over your dick, and grab the lube bottle from Hal. “Just be careful, okay? Use your fingers first. All that.”

“I know what I’m doing,” you say, and squirt some lube on your finger. Behind you, Hal’s pulling your shirt off, unbuttoning each button with precision before it’s falling off down to your elbows, and you’re pushing a finger into the tight rings of muscle, and Dirk’s letting out a whining noise, his hips clearly trying to stay on the bed. There’s precum still beading at the tip of his dick, and before you can say something, a metal hand is reaching around, wrapping digits around Dirk’s cock, and you breathe a thankful sigh that it’s not just you doing this.

It’s all three of you.

You pull your finger out, drizzle some more lubricant on, and press two in. Three, and Dirk’s shaking, covering his face and letting out these little moans that go straight to your dick. He’s grinding down on your fingers, and you press against something hard - probably his prostate, if porn’s given you any knowledge. Dirk throws his head back, whining _loud_.

“Shit, Jake, just put your dick in me already.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I am. For sure.”

“He is,” says Hal, his hand still around Dirk’s dick, and you feel sorry for him, just laying there, waiting on you to put your dick inside him. So you lube up the condom, press the head of your dick against his ass, slowly, slowly push inside, using just your hips. You have to grip at the side of Dirk’s hips, to keep him still. You can feel Hal’s hands on your own hips, and it’s sort of like a hand-on-hips train, his on yours on Dirk’s, and Dirk has his eyes closed, squeezed shut.

You push inside a little more, and more, before you just about bottom out - it feels dang incredible, tight around you and ridiculously warm. You stay there, still, unmoving - you’re certain once you start thrusting into him, you’re not going to be able to stop.

Hal’s hands move up your waist. “Just do it. It’s okay, he’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t fuck me,” Dirk hisses, “I will push you onto your back and do it myself. I will fuck myself on your stupid cock and not let you touch me, you -”

You pull your hips back, and thrust back inside, effectively shutting Dirk up. You move closer, pulling his legs up and putting them over your shoulders, pressing into him as deep as you can, your hips doing the work for you. You doubt you’ll last long, with how gorgeous he looks splayed out beneath you, tan lines and freckles and scars littering his body. Your hips are banging into his, heavy breath and skin slapping together filling up the room, the sound lewd and gorgeous with every moan he lets out, that dumb facade slipping right off of him. Hal’s mouth is on the back of your neck, and you still a little, reaching down to grasp at Dirk’s dick, giving it a few strokes.

Dirk looks up at you like he’s having an epiphany, his eyes half-lidded, legs up over your shoulders, his entire body folded practically in half, and you don’t care.

You don’t care about the metal mouth on your neck. You don’t care about the body beneath yours. If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t matter. What you do care about is that it’s them, and it’s the two people you actually care about, and it’s your hips slamming into Dirk’s body, and it’s Hal’s mouth on your neck, on your shoulder, leaving bite marks, and it’s Dirk’s mouth open wide and moaning out your name, Hal’s name.

“Jake,” he mumbles, and you barely manage a grunt in response. “Jake, _fuck_ , I’m -”

You can feel yourself about to unravel, something knitting up inside your stomach about to come undone, and you just nod, leaning your forehead against his.

And Hal moves around, leaning around, and kisses you, his mouth hard against yours, teeth scraping against your lips, and you kiss him back, panting and heavy and your hips are moving on autopilot, and Dirk _snaps_ , come spilling across his stomach, pooling in the crevices, and you snap too, your vision going black like you turned off your computer screen, electricity coursing right down your spine, and when you come to, panting, exhausted, and so fucking satisfied, Dirk’s laying beneath you, a tired grin on his lips.

“That was fucking incredible,” Hal says, laughing. “You’re both incredible. Mainly Jake. Sorry.”

“Mmmgh,” says Dirk.

You pull out of him, tie up the condom and toss it in the garbage, then collapse next to him, next to Hal, laying between the two - cleaning up can wait. Right now, you just want to lay here, warm and happy, ignoring the wetness on the sheets.

“By gum,” you say, your voice coming out in puffs, “I want to do that again, and again, and again, for the rest of my life, _holy toledo_.”

“Same,” says Dirk, grabbing your hand.

Hal grabs the other. “Are we dating now?”

You nod vigorously. “Absotively posilutely.”

“Anyone else glad it snowed?” asks Hal, squeezing your hand. “Because… I’m really fucking glad it snowed.”


End file.
